Congo

Not as bad as dad

But worries are growing about the young president, Joseph Kabila

THE 32-year-old president's handsome face is quite unlike that of his murdered predecessor, whose jowly image adorns his office walls. But the handshake is the same. Joseph Kabila, the Democratic Republic of Congo's leader, has his father Laurent's meaty hands. This is startling, because Mr Kabila has done mercifully little else to recall his dreadful father, one of the architects of Congo's tangled five-year war, which has claimed at least 3m lives. In July, Mr Kabila declared the war over, and accepted his main rebel enemies into a government of national unity. But, as Congo's delicate transition begins, there are signs, mostly still hazy, that Mr Kabila may yet turn out to be his father's son.

Under the terms of a peace deal signed last year, Mr Kabila gave his armed and unarmed opponents three out of four vice-presidencies and some 40 ministries in the new government. Mr Kabila and the rebels have all pledged to form political parties to fight elections due within three years. Yet Mr Kabila appears to remain in control—at least, as much as anyone can be in such a vast, violent and roadless place as Congo.

This may reflect Mr Kabila's relative popularity. Having grown up in Tanzania, he is still scarcely known to the Congolese, but many credit him with bringing peace. Congo's latest bout of war began when Rwanda invaded it from the east in 1998 and most of Congo's neighbours piled in on one side or the other. Earlier this year, at least in part thanks to Mr Kabila's sensible diplomacy, the last foreign troops withdrew, leaving their increasingly isolated rebel proxies behind. These are the groups that Mr Kabila has accepted into his government in Kinshasa, the capital.

By comparison, Azarias Ruberwa, one of his new vice-presidents, may be the most detested man in Congo. His rebel group, the Rally for Congolese Democracy (RCD), was raised and run by Rwanda. Even in the distant east, which the RCD still controls, Mr Ruberwa is considered a traitor. Nor is Jean-Pierre Bemba, another rebel vice-president, universally loved. The irascible Mr Bemba was recently referred to the UN's International Criminal Court at The Hague in connection with his Ugandan-backed fighters' alleged penchant for eating rainforest-dwelling pygmies—which Mr Bemba denies.

Still, in Congo, where no democratic election has ever been held, popularity is less important than cash. And here too Mr Kabila's faction appears to have the upper hand. To accommodate the 40 new ministers, many old ministries were broken up. In the process, the old government managed to claw back some lucrative portfolios, including those that dispense licences to distribute oil and set up mobile-phone networks. Diamond exports are also subject to the old regime's rules, despite the efforts of an energetic new minister of mines, who recently tried to block the export of stones worth $10m to an Israeli-run company, but was overruled by his deputy—Mr Kabila's former chief of mines. Another of Mr Kabila's allies is Katumba Mwanke, the new government's secretary-general, whom the UN has accused of involvement in the theft of state assets worth more than $5 billion.

Mr Kabila may have some dodgy friends, but he has some good advisers too. Last year the economy grew by 3%, despite half the country being in rebel hands. In delight, foreign donors pledged aid worth more than $2.5 billion. But diplomats in Kinshasa are beginning to sound queasy. The president's friends, they say, are becoming a problem.

Mr Kabila would rather discuss the election he promises to hold. His party is already holding rallies, even though other parties are forbidden to do so. Elections are hard to imagine, however. Fighting still rages in the east, and the country has virtually no infrastructure. In remote areas, people have returned to nudity for want of clothes. But if Congo is to be put together again, an election will have to be held.